


In The Wreckage, I Find You

by elegantlydisastrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Charity Auctions, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sterek Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantlydisastrous/pseuds/elegantlydisastrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles bails Derek out of a bad situation, only to be caught in one himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Wreckage, I Find You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elinimate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinimate/gifts).



> Etta requested a get together fic where Stiles and Derek are trapped in the wreckage. Prompt filled for the Sterek Campaign Charity Auction, hope you like it!

Clouds are dark and ominous as the snow falls, much too quickly for Stiles’ windshield wipers to keep up. The snow is so thick; he can barely see more than two feet of road in front of him. Violent winds are howling around them, rocking the car even as he drives as slow a pace as he is managing. Why he went out into a severe snowstorm to help none other than Derek Hale will forever puzzle his inquisitive mind.

“I don’t understand how you always manage to get yourself into the worst situations. She had a gun, Derek. A _gun_.” Stiles’ tight grip on the steering wheel is white knuckled, hands shaking from the cold and _fuck,_ _why isn’t the heat working in this thing_? He’s trying not to think about the fact that his passengers seat is occupied by a werewolf who is bleeding all over his upholstery.

“A bullet wouldn’t kill me,” Derek snarls. Stiles wants to argue, he does but it’s the way that there’s no bite behind the bark that gives him pause. Derek is weak, and he won’t be healing until they get that bullet out of his arm. “A _regular_ bullet wouldn’t, but a wolfsbane bullet just might do the trick,” Stiles quipped and alright, so he doesn’t have _complete_ self control. The front tires of the Jeep lose their grip and he begins to panic. Holding the steering wheel straight, he tightens his grip and regains control of the vehicle.

“I hate driving in the snow,” Stiles fusses.

“It wouldn't be so bad if you had put chains on your wheels like you should have. Now drive faster” Derek manages through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look,” Stiles exclaims as he pulls off to the side of the road, cutting off the ignition. “In fact, I think that if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.” Stiles had been looking at Derek when he was driving but he couldn’t actually _see_ just how bad he was with the small side glances as he drove. Now that he was focused on him, he could see the pain in his eyes, the pale of his skin and the black inked veins slowly creeping further up his arm from the wound.

“Start the car or I’m going to rip your throat out… with my teeth.” Derek doesn’t look like he’s anywhere near arguing so going against every fiber of his being wanting to stay put and argue, Stiles obeys and starts the car. It’s difficult to pull back onto the road but he manages. The drive is quiet, or as quiet as it can be with the wind blowing as loud as it was. At a curve in the road the car seems to hit a patch of ice, and Stiles makes the common error of turning the steering wheel. The excessive steering does nothing more than make everything worse. He loses control of the jeep, the car spinning uncontrollably. The last thing Stiles can see is the worried look on Derek’s face. The last thing he hears is the sound of Derek yelling out his name, the feel of him gripping his arm tightly and then it all goes black.

-xxx-

It’s dark when he wakes, the bitter taste of blood in his mouth and every bone in his body is aching. There’s a sharp pain on the side of his head and Stiles is fighting to keep his eyes open. Stiles doesn’t remember much, just the loud crash before his jeep hit the tree and Derek’s han- _Derek_. Stiles tries to move, but his body is placed so awkwardly. His eyes begin to adjust in the darkness as he blinks rapidly. _Holy shit._ The car is upside down, and from what he can see it’s completely wrecked. The roof bent in and it’s a miracle they weren’t crushed to death. His movements are slow, careful. When he finally gets a glimpse of Derek out of the corner of his eye, his heart almost stops. Derek’s eyes are closed as he lay there, unmoving.

“Derek,” Stiles croaks, his voice cracking. He uses his feet to push against what he assumes is the door to be able to move closer to the wolf. Reaching a hand out is excruciatingly painful but necessary. He tries to rattle Derek awake, but it’s a mission in itself. He’s claustrophobic and this isn’t going to end well. Stiles’ innate fear of small spaces is creeping up on him and with no sign of an escape he fears he might have a panic attack. He begins having visions of the remnants of the car getting smaller and smaller and he's feeling like there's no place to breathe. It hurts but he starts to move, pushing and kicking at every surface he can get his hands on out of frustration. He tries to kick out the windshield but there’s something blocking it. He sees his phone out of the corner of his eye, in pieces which is just fantastic. There isn’t much he can do and he just _hates_ the feeling of being helpless. He’s panting now, nerves shot as he tries to shake Derek awake again.

“Derek,” he calls a bit louder, panicking now that he’s running out of options. It takes a moment or two but Derek finally stirs awake with a gasp.

“Stiles?” His voice is hoarse as he speaks.

“We’re trapped,” Stiles informs him between pants, “I ca-” he stops to catch his breath. “I can’t get us out. I can’t.” Being stuck in this metal contraption is not on the list of things he wanted to do in his life. Stiles doesn’t know what’s worse, blistering cold or the ache from whatever bones seem to be broken in his body.

“Stiles,” He knows Derek can barely make out his words and he wants to tell him to stop, to take it easy but he’s too busy trying to stop the imminent attack he’s edging on. “Stiles, listen to me. You need to calm down.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Stiles speaks, his teeth chattering as he does. “I’m trapped in the scraps of my Jeep with a guy that threatens to rip my throat out and I just need to find a way out here because I am freezing and we are going to die. _Oh my God_ ,” Stiles’ voice starts to rise. “I’m going to die.” He hears a small huff and then Derek is pulling him closer. Every bone in his body is throbbing in pain and he lets out a small scream because of it.

“Just come here,” Derek murmurs. They move until Stiles is practically in Derek’s lap, head resting on his shoulder. Stiles can think of a few Santa Wolf jokes, or twelve, but given the situation he’d rather focus on staying alive. The silence is loud around them, the cold making it hard to speak. Derek arms are making him feel safe and Stiles is trying not to read too much into it. Slowly the sharp pains shooting through him begin to fade, making him feel numb, a soft buzzing beneath his skin. It isn’t long before Stiles realizes what he’s doing, peering down to see the hand Derek has resting on side, spidering with inked veins.

“S-Stop,” Stiles says between chattering teeth. “You’re already hurt. I’ll be fine.” Derek seems to ignore him instead, hold tightening around him. If Derek isn’t going to budge, he isn’t going to force him, instead huddling closer to his warmth and resting his head back on his shoulder, face pressed close to Derek’s neck. The smell of the blood that has begun to dry on his own face from the wound on his head is making Stiles’ stomach turn but he can’t find it in himself to move. He loses track of time, how long they’ve been wrapped in each others arms. It’s awkward since they don’t actually _talk_ much and since they’re going to be here for a while, Stiles decides to make the best of it. It’s the least he can do since Derek is assuring he doesn’t get frostbite and _die_.

“We’re probably going to die here,” It’s quiet for a beat too long before Derek finally mutters his reply.

“We’re not going to die, Stiles.” It took forever to say _that_? Stiles is finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. The pain has all but subsided with Derek’s help but the pulsing in his head is still there, trying to pull him under.

“Hey,” He hears Derek say as he shakes him lightly. “Stay awake, stay with me.” Memories flood back to him of being in the hospital with his mother. Roaming hallways as she slept, overhearing everything the adults would say as they passed him by. He’s smart enough to know that he should stay awake with a head wound, but everything is getting blurry and he can’t resist letting his eyes flutter closed. It’s the rough tone, the familiar sound of Derek’s voice that keeps pulling him back.

“When I was ten I was grounded for the first time because I was supposed to be watching Cora but I wanted to go for a run instead,” Derek says in a rush and that grabs Stiles’ attention. _What_? He blinks up at Derek, moving a few inches away to be able to really look at him before huffing out a laugh.

“When I was ten I accidentally melted my dads badge and said it was a science project.” Stiles supplies because really, if _Derek_ is willing to share things to make this less shitty than it actually is, he can too.

“I can top that,” Derek surprises him by saying. “I once threw out a hefty pile of my family’s mountain ash because I thought it was ‘dirt’” and with that Stiles can’t help but laugh out loud. How can someone be so _stupid_? He immediately grabs his side as the action hurt him but it was definitely worth it. The small crinkle in Derek’s eyes as he smiles seems to warm a place of his heart he didn’t think would ever come alive again.

“Failwolf,” Stiles says simply, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. Catching Derek’s smile at that, he taps his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, one time me and Scott covered every inch of the cruiser in sticky notes and my dad was so pissed he made us peel them all off and write ‘I’m sorry’ on each one.” He feels more than hears Derek’s laugh, a rumble that seems to rock his whole body. They go on like this for what feels like forever but realistically was probably no more than an hour. Stiles is learning more about Derek in this time than he ever has during any of his research. And Stiles is pretty efficient in his searching skills.

“One time…” Stiles starts. “I told Scott that I was crushing you.” Derek is staring at him now, smile disappearing from his face, brows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah man, it was bad, I'm talking massive. He told me to get over it cause one of us would only end up hurt. I told him I would.” Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat and tries not to think too much of the past.

“Did you?” Derek surprises him by asking. Stiles is thrown off by the question, of course he is but he has to play it cool.

“Yeah, totally.” Derek doesn’t comment on the lie Stiles knows he heard so Stiles doesn’t defend it. The thing is, he really likes this Derek. The more he gets to know him, _the real him_ , the more he realizes they have so much in common. Stiles is smiling, wholeheartedly at this moment until reality dawns on him.

“Derek… how the hell are we gonna get out of here?” Stiles would try to move again, but everytime he does his head starts spinning and he feels nauseous within seconds.

“I don’t know. I need to heal but I can’t do that unless I get this out of my system.” Derek says then and Stiles is just so frustrated. It took only moments for the feelings of hopelessness to flood through him again. He’s so aggravated in fact, that he slams his fist against the glove compartment. Not a smart move at first since he hurts himself more than anything else but when it pops open after, he forgets all about the pain in his knuckles.

“Derek, look!” Stiles says excitedly and he feels Derek shift them so he can see what Stiles is pulling out of the compartment. He remembers instantly the long talk he had with Scott about having an emergency kit, just in case and now he’s freaking ecstatic. “I. Am. A. Genius!” The long exasperated sigh he hears tells him that Derek still hasn’t seen what he has in his hands so he shifts in his lap and turns towards him. He catches the moment Derek’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s in the box Stiles is opening. “Genius, amirite?” Stiles is beaming. He never gets anything right. The monkshood bullet he pulls out of the box is cold to the touch as he passes it off to Derek to open. Stiles fumbles around the box for the lighter he’d stashed in here as well and then crawls off of Derek’s lap. He isn’t going to want to be on top of him once they apply the ash.

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek sounds irritated at the hesitation before Stiles finally moves.

“Excuse me if this isn’t exactly _easy_ for me to look at,” Stiles huffs before lighting the powder and waiting for Derek to do the rest. He can never look at these werewolves go through this process without cringing a bit so when Derek starts to scream and writhe on the other side of the car, Stiles wants to look away. It takes a few moments before Derek comes to, the seemingly dark ink receding from this veins and Stiles is ever so grateful as he inches towards him.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks him hesitantly, trying to make himself sound strong, even though his teeth are chattering.

“Peachy,” Derek supplies with a roll of his eyes. _Oh, so we’re back to that Derek_. Stiles stays quiet for once, doesn’t make the comment he wants to make because after all, they are still stuck here. He watches silently as Derek flexes his arm, getting the feel of it again before starting to look for an escape.

-xxx-

There’s a moment of pause where Derek stops to put himself back on the right train of thought. His first instinct is to get Stiles back in his arms, the sound of his chattering teeth in the otherwise silent wreckage is so loud in his ears. Derek knows better though. He knows he should be finding a way out of here and that’s why the moment the pain in his arm is manageable, he starts looking for just that. The windshield seems to be pressed against the bark of this enormous tree and everything else is smashed in so bad he can barely tell what’s what. The front passenger door is his next target.

“Stiles, get to the back of the car,” Derek demands.

“What? No, why?” Stiles tells him and if it weren’t for his control, Derek would be slamming his head against what’s left of the front seat.

“Stiles, I need the room. Go. Now.” He can tell by the look on Stiles’ face that he hates being told what to do but now is not the time to argue about that, so he fixes him with a stern look until he finally gives in and crawls his way to the back. Derek moves to the other side, lays across so that his legs are pressed up near the other door and tries to kick his way out. Once, twice, and nothing. It isn’t until the third time, where Derek chances a glance at Stiles who is looking at him with all the hope in the world. It’s a look like he’s counting on him, that makes Derek put every ounce of his strength into it and finally kick out the bent sheet metal hard enough to free them.

Derek crawls out, turning back to help Stiles get out of the wreckage without hurting himself. One of his hands is holding Stiles’ as he’s crawling out and then sits down on the ground, back leaning on the wreck. He seems to be catching his breath, and Derek can’t blame him for being happy to get out of that entrapment. Taking the space beside him, Derek is quiet as he waits for Stiles to say something. It’s ironic how he used to be anxious for him to be quiet and now he can’t wait for the next words to come out of his mouth. If he was honest with himself, he knows he felt the same. The kid was insufferable, but he challenged Derek and constantly kept him on edge. Derek feels a little stupid, revealing so much to Stiles in such a short amount of time but he couldn’t help it. And now that he isn’t worried about wolfsbane practically killing him, he can think about how Stiles’ heart skipped a beat when he told that lie. How there was still a part of the man that still felt something for him. And how could Derek be so lucky, as to have someone like Stiles to give two halves of a shit about him? Stiles who is selflessly putting hours into research for these wolves, who constantly throws himself in the face of danger despite being fragile, being _human_. How could Derek ever deserve someone like that?

“Stop it,” Stiles’ voice breaks through the silence.

“Stop what?” Derek asks, then. Cause shit, did he say any of that out loud?

“I can hear you thinking from here. I’m sorry if what I said freaked you out or whatever okay? We both know that you can hear the lies and I’m glad you didn’t point it out back there but can we not do the whole emotions thing, cause I’m not good at it and we all know _you’re_ not good at it. My head is killing me right now so just save me the embarrassment and pretend it never happened.” Derek takes Stiles’ hand in his as his little rant dwindles, starts to take some of his pain away. He’s trying to distract himself from the fact that Stiles is so oblivious, he wants to scream. How could he not tell much Derek cares for him, how much he’d love to be with him if he would have the chance. His thoughts are cut short when Stiles squeezes his hand, and Derek intertwines their fingers together. They both stare at their joined hands, snowflakes falling and melting into their skin. The howling of the wind is the only sound around them other than the faint thumping of their heartbeats.

“I don’t want to pretend it never happened.” Derek says in such a quiet tone, he’s almost surprised when Stiles catches it.

“Wait, what?” Stiles asks and he’s saved from the moment when he hears a car coming towards them. He moves to stand up, takes Stiles’ hand in his own to help him up. The Sheriff screeches to a halt before the wreckage and comes running over to them.

“Stiles! Stiles, are you okay?” The Sheriff is yelling, worry and anger coating each of his words.

“I’m good Dad, I promise.” Stiles says as his father embraces him. It’s awkward for a moment as Derek watches the exchange, scratching absently at his neck.

“Derek stopped my face from being best friends with the steering wheel which is good, and he managed to get us out.” Derek shifts uncomfortably under the gaze of the two Stilinski’s.

“Thank you, son.” The Sheriff says then and pulls Derek into a quick hug. Scratch what he said, this is the new most awkward moment of his life. Derek is caught between being emotional over the fact that this father figure is showing some sort of appreciation to him and completely freaking out because this is way too much emotion for one day. He gives the Sheriff a quick pat on the back, before the older man lets go and nods at him.

“I better call this in. Neither of you are moving until I get a medic out here.” With that, the Sheriff is walking back to the cruiser and leaving them alone again. If everyone is just going to just go around blurting their feelings all of a sudden, Derek may as well thank Stiles for saving him earlier. This night would have ended a whole lot differently if he hadn’t shown up to get him out of there.

“Thank you for saving me earlier,” Derek says in a rush and Stiles moves to stand in front of him now, so they’re facing each other.

“When you think about it,” Stiles starts and he’s giving him this shit eating grin that Derek just knows he’s going to hate what’s coming. “We kind of cliche 1980’s movie saved each other.”

“We never speak of this again,” Derek groans.

“Oh no, we speak of it all the time, every chance we get.” Stiles is being insufferable and Derek? Well, he kinda likes it. Closing the distance between them, Derek gets right in his face and smirks at him. He was hoping to get Stiles to shut up, but when his arms wrap around Derek’s neck, he instinctively wraps his around Stiles’ waist to pull him closer.

“You like me,” Stiles says, still giving Derek that impossible smile.

“Shut up,” Derek says and finally, _finally_ presses his lips to Stiles’ to shut him up the right way. Derek immediately gets wrapped in Stiles, the warm press of his lips despite the cold around them. When Derek pulls back, the snow is still falling, snowflakes landing on Stiles’ lashes, making a glint in those molten gold eyes. It’s just like Stiles says, incredibly cliche. They look like a poster of a winter movie and it’s horrid and perfect all at the same time. Derek is just kind of stunned, can’t remember the last time he felt safe in someone else’s arms. He can’t feel anything but Stiles flush against him, the arms wrapped around him tightly and it’s all good, so good.

“I kind of like you.” Derek says then, and Stiles’ smile is worth it.

“I knew it!” Stiles is so excited he does a little fist pump in the air before wrapping his arms back around Derek’s neck.

“Ahem,” they both pull away from each other at lightning speed when the Sheriff clears his throat.

“Dad! I, uh-”

“Save it. It was about time,” The Sheriff tells them before turning back to walk towards his squad car. “Ambulance is on it’s way,” he calls before getting into the car and pick up some papers.

“This is the most awkward die of my life,” Derek mumbles, face beet red. Stiles bursts out in fits of laughter and it almost makes everything worth it.

“I hate you,” Derek says then. Stiles’ laughs only get louder as he huddles back into Derek’s arms.

“You don’t. You really don’t.” Derek huffs, wrapping his arms around Stiles and hiding his smile in his hair. He really doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write a followup to this. Tbh, it's just an excuse to add the smut.


End file.
